


In Revolution We Fall.

by ghostiis



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Blood and Injury, Mild Blood and Gore, Minecraft, Other, Pogtopia, Pogtopia AU, Pre-Manberg-Pogtopia War on Dream Team SMP (Video Blogging RPF), descriptions of violence, dream smp au, l'manberg
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-25
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:41:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27714902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostiis/pseuds/ghostiis
Summary: Technoblade had been removed from the RiverBend court after the first massacre under the King's hand.He went quietly, knowing his disagreement with the govern had been voiced, but not heard. Now, Technoblade lives on a farm given to him by the King in favour for his silence.Technoblade remained indifferent, but somewhere a young revolutionary is stirring up conversation about uprising against the twisted hands that rule them, and Technoblade finds himself unwilling tangled up in it all.
Kudos: 36





	1. Enter The Farmer.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, I'm Ghostiis. 
> 
> This is the beginning of my own medieval Technoblade au. Might as well through my hat into the ring.  
> I'm going to keep this one short and sweet, and hopefully I'll expand further in the next chapter! 
> 
> This is my first time using AO3, so please bare with me if there's mistakes or I tag things incorrectly. Thank you for your patience. Please enjoy, I know I'm enjoying writing these.

Kneeling in the furthest patch of his expanding farm, Techno’s hands were caked in dirt. It had rained earlier than he had wanted, and did not seem to be letting up. Worried about the newer potatoes he’d planted succumbing to the copious amounts of rain, he had hammered in sticks in between the plants. Two hours spent stringing up small tarps over the unripened ones, and further up the field, removing the potatoes that were matured decently. He placed several into a wicker basket, covering them over, and throwing it over his shoulder. Picking up five other baskets, also filled with potatoes, he placed three on one end of a long walking stick, and the other two on the other end. Standing slowly, he hauled the load upon his shoulders, and began back to the farmhouse. He walked in silence, cursing the rain. It had interrupted his plans to care for Carl for the day, forcing him instead to tend to the farm for his one day of rest for the month. Sighing, he crossed the land between the forest and the open potato field, towards his house, barn and storage units. Passing by the yawning door of the barn, he looked down the length of the barn. He clicked his tongue a few times, and paused. A small whining preceded the chestnut brown horse. Techno couldn’t help but smile. Carl’s nose appeared at the stall door first, then his head, turning to flap his lips at Techno curiously.

“Hey, Carl.” Techno approached the barn, placing his potato haul on the floor just inside, out of the rain. Carl whined, stamping a hoof. 

Bringing his hand to the horses’ cheek, Techno cooed at him softly, “Hush now, it’s alright.” petting the length of his face, he brushed the blonde mane away from Carl’s eyes. 

“We’ll go for a ride tomorrow, alright? ”  
He promised the restless horse, whose shoulders simply shuddered, chasing away flies, in response. Carl huffed, stretching his neck and resting his head into Techno’s shoulder. A dry chuckle escaped him, shaking his head lightly, he brought his hands to the horses’ ears, giving him a final pat on the neck for good measure, stepping away. 

“Want your dinner, huh?” The horse wined at him.

Techno smiled, shaking his head. “You only love me for the food and the rides, don’t you Carl?” 

Carl said nothing in response, but watched Techno eagerly as he stalked down the hall. Pouring an oat mixture he’d bought from the market into a bucket, he blinked miserably when it emptied completely, leaving the dusty sack. Looking, he sighed when there was no other sack in its place. 

“Well there’s your ride for you, Carl!” He called out, picking up the bucket in one hand, grabbing a tied bale of hay in the other. Leaving the tack room, he returned to the hallway of stalls, all mostly empty, save the few that stored swords and enchanted axes collecting dust,

“We’ve run out of oats -- you can’t just eat hay” Carl blinked “I know you would, but at least one of us needs a balanced diet. We’ll go to the market tomorrow and resupply.” He said, placing the bucket down, jiggling the metal rod that locked the door of Carl’s stall, clicking his tongue. 

“C’mon, backup” He told him, clicking at him, then picking up the bucket and entering the stall. Carl retreated a few steps, but nosed his way towards Techno, sniffing loudly. Techno turned his shoulder to him, hanging the bucket on a small dull hook and placing the hay bale on the floor. 

“Dinners served,” He said, sidestepping. Giving a final pat to the horses’ side, watching him ungracefully shove his nose into the bucket, he left the stall. Techno let out a scoff, leaving the barn and collecting the drying wicker baskets stuffed with potatoes. 

He turned to home. The small cobblestone-wood house stood on the utmost part of his land, outlooking the one acre field, dotted with green masses of potato plants that covered the tiled dirt. The rain cast an ugly grey across the sky. Techno glared up at it, wishing it would go soon so not to drown all of the crops out before the colder seasons, which would make his work much more insufferable than it already was.  
Kicking the door open with his boot, he welcomed the shelter from the weather. His house was smaller than perhaps what he needed, but he wasn’t one to complain. He’d been given the piece of land from the Riverbend Crown two years ago, after his forced retirement. He built his house, and then a small potato farm. Since then, he rarely left home.

His potato farm was simply for self-sufficiency, but eventually it gained traction with one man, a kilometer away in the neighboring farm. He’d been approached by him one day, in the market. Techno had taken him as something odd, with dyed blue hair that almost reminded him of the myth of Medusa he’d read as a child, the way it curled and collected in thick, heavy strands of blubber that seemingly moved coordinately. Upon further inspection, and a conversation with the man over a pint, he realized his hair was something akin to short, stubbed tentacles, not dissimilar to a squid, henceforth the nickname he garnered: Squid-Kid. Squid-Kid was not his real name, but Techno had begun to call him it and was never corrected. Technoblade, ofcourse, was not his real name, but no one else knew otherwise, and he intended to keep it as such.

Squid-Kid had declared that he alone was the master of farming potatoes, even so much so that he was the best in the country, and that Techno would be better off to never challenge his skill. Techno scoffed, shook his hand, muttered, ‘We’ll see,’ and left. 

Since, their friendly rivalry had turned into a full blown agricultural war. Sabotaging and meddling was not beyond either of them -- on multiple occasions Techno would find himself throwing pebbles and shouting at children who broke into his property. They never stole anything, but simply annoyed him, meddled with his tools, or knocked down supports he’d built. He’d managed to sneak up on one once, and after scaring the kid half to death, his sword drawn, one foot placed firmly on his arm. The kid was petrified, and Techno would have felt more guilty if he wasn’t done with being completely irritated. The kid was for hire as a public nuisance, along with the little gang he ran with, and Squid had taken advantage of his assets and sent the kid to bother him. Techno had since then hired the kid as his own little goon, promising that instead of hauling the kid’s body into the field to use for fertilizer, he would release him unharmed, and have him trade sides. 

Techno and Squid’s war did not go unnoticed by the town, much to his utter dismay. The day he overheard the townsfolk speaking of him as he passed in the market as the ‘crazy piglin hybrid in that potato war,’ he rode immediately to Squid’s house. Squid was confused, but agreed to Techno’s rules that the war would end after some counting and statistics of the yearly harvest and three months. Techno, by a large sum, had been counted as the victor, and the war declared over.

The evening after, Techno opened the door to Squid, who stood with a small basket, containing potatoes, a bed of lettuce, cloth-wrapped mutton, and two flasks of beer. They both laughed rather jovially, as though they’d not been at eachothers throats for months, and soon settled down into a rhythm. Techno had prepared the meat, whilst Squid peeled and washed the potatoes. They ate, cleaned up and spoke. Squid left on good terms, and Techno would feel safe to assume they were friends. He could imagine if Squid found himself under siege by unruly potato thieves, he would come to Techno. Techno could imagine going to Squid if he fell under the same hypothetical.

Techno blinked -- the rain hadn’t stopped. The sky had darkened since he’d walked inside, but the time had passed so strangely, he couldn’t remember it happening, so he felt rather suddenly shrouded in the dark. The floorboards creaked at his footfall, as he moved to light an oil-lamp. He hitched the small oil lantern on the post at his back-door for Carl. He’d felt guilty for only serving the horse so little oats than his usual serving. He would make it up to him, he thought tiredly, at the market. Perhaps a few treats, if the blacksmith or equestrian merchant was in town. 

Sighing, he turned his gaze to the fireplace he’d built. With the rain showing no signs of stopping, he thought of waking up with the cold air leaking into the house from the creaks, rain weighing down on him. He walked to it, picked up an arm full of pre-cut logs he’d dealt out the summer before, and threw it into the ashy pit. Flint clanking softly, sparks flew onto the dried wood, catching quickly. He nodded, content with himself, and settled down into his chair. 

The quiet clicking of nails from above him turned his attention to the stairs. Wobbly, a mid-sized white dog ambled down the stairs, his legs bending as he manoeuvred down the stairs, pausing on the landing to look at him. Floof, he’d raised from a puppy. 

“Hey Floof” he said to the dog. Floof, seemingly content with that, tail now wagging, continued down the stairs. With a small huff, he stepped onto the floor, looking eagerly at Techno. Techno’s resolve slipped, his eyes softening, opening his arms in invitation.

“Alright, c'mere old man.” Despite the dog aging in years, he moved quickly, tail wagging, to Techno’s side. He gave Floof a small pat on the head, his tail adding to the thumping of the rain. Techno watched him for a moment, then sighed. He'd spent years establishing a reputation as a violent chaotic warrior, bloodthirsty, strong, ruthless and merciless. It suited him well-enough, but the moment the dog gave him the slightest appearance of looking downcast, he could not resist providing the dog with comfort. 

Leaning back into his chair and placing both feet flat on the floor, he tapped his leg with his hand. Floof, with some effort, scrambled upon Techno’s lap. 

“Up you get,” Techno said, steadying the old dog until he was curled up in his lap, his limbs hanging awkwardly off the side, his head rested against Techno’s shoulder. A final huff past Techno’s ear, and he was settled. Wrapping his arms around Floof, he pet him gently, watching the fire flicker. Techno, now unable to move, regretted having not removed his shoes before he sat down, and regretted not having changed from his half-dry, muddied clothes. Deciding to have a quick nap and wait out the rain, he closed his eyes. He would rest a moment. Sat so still now, with Floof wrapped in his arms, the familiar ache caught him up.

The rain did not soften, it’s downpour relentless, but, with warmth of the fireplace in front of him, and Floof draped across his chest, he didn’t mind. He was never opposed to the rain or cold. Warmth could always be found elsewhere -- sometimes, found within the cold.

Outside, Carl’s tired whiny broke through the rain. Potatoes grew. Two miles away, Squid-Kid, having little luck with the rain either, had also called it in for the night, settling down and turning out the lights.

Unbeknownst to Technoblade, a revolution had reared its head in the town a few miles over, and The Crown of Riverbend had noticed.


	2. Enter the Revolutionaries.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Technoblade goes into the town's market. He meets two idiots with dark aspirations. 
> 
> Wilbur and Tommy meet a retired farmer with no aspirations other than to remain in retirement. They convince him otherwise.
> 
> (Knife/Blood warning. A hand is stabbed in this chapter.)

_ A pair stood on the outskirts of Greenlake, torches raised as they watched the city below. It had fallen timid with the night, most people tucked away in their homes, closed doors and suspicious stares met those who stayed out late for long past the suns set.  _

_ The man, taller, his curled brown hair hiding the furrow in his brow, turned, boots scuffing the dirt.  _

_ “We can do this!” A smaller, not by much, young boy. His blonde hair tousled on top of his head, brushed quickly, little care, rushed.  _

_ “And if we fail? What are we risking everything for? Tommy if we fail we’ll leave the world… it’ll be worse off.”  _

_ “Wilbur, we’ve got to try, don't we? Everything they took from you, stolen opportunities from me and Tubbo! From everyone! We’ve got the people now! They trust us don’t they?” _

_ The man sighed. Glasses framed his face, dark eyes distantly watching the city he’d called his home.  _

_ “Alright. If you think so.” _

_ “I do.”  _

_ “Alright Tommy. Let’s start a revolution.” _

Technoblade woke slowly, to silence. The rain had finally withdrawn, moving past the horizon in large, billows black clouds. The fire had died out while he slept, it’s embers barely noticeable. The room smelt ashy and worn. The air was silent outside, a chill clung to the windows. Petrichor was a smell he’d grown to love deeply since moving out into his farm. Often, he would read whatever poetry he’d bartered off of travellers, and sit on the grassy knoll past the farm just where his property ended, and breath the petrichor. He’d normally bring Carl and Floof with him. Sometimes he would pause his readings and throw sticks for Floof to amble after. Carl would pay their games no mind, simply grazing. Time before the Potato War was simple. Before that, less so. 

Grumbling as he sat up, he noticed Floof had moved from his lap during the night to lay next to his feet. Floof did not stir, his tiny emissions of sleepy grumbles or sighs, and the rise and fall of his sides, indicated that he’d not died of old age in his sleep. Techno knew Floof was old, and he knew that eventually, Floof would not wake from his naps in front of the fireplace, but it disturbed him nonetheless to think of coming home and Floof not being there, not waiting on the stairs for him. Despite the thinking being logical, he pressed it down his throat, and reached down to pet Floof’s head. Floof moved slightly at the touch, licking his lips, and blinking wearily. 

“Hey,” Techno said, “Want breakfast, Floof?” Floof’s muscles shuddered as he stood, tail thumping against the ground as the dog eyed him eagerly. 

He had changed first out of the dirty cold clothes he’d fallen asleep in, into clean ones. He wore a simple white blouse, black breeches he had saved away for whenever he needed to leave his farm, and a black throw over cloak, with a red sash tied around his waist, serving no real purpose other than for style, something he valued. 

Techno, accompanied by Floof, rummaged through the house rather unorganized, gathering supplies. He grabbed a coin pouch and a hair tie, and favourite sword. The sword hung at his side, the scabbard tied to the sash he wore, tucked away under the cloak. Technoblade had never needed to use his sword since leaving The Crown of Riverbend. He carried it for effect, and with his towering height, the sharp tusk-like teeth protruding past his bottom lip, and the reputation that came with his name, he invited no trouble, and did his best to not seek it out. 

“Come.” Holding the door for Floof, the white dog clamoured out the door and into the dirt turned mud from the previous night’s rain. Techno sighed, watching Floof dirty his paws immediately. He closed the door behind him, spare raindrops falling after having collected on the edge of the roof overnight. 

“Hey! Cut that out. We’re going to town, Floof. You’ve got to look decent.” He chastised him, and even though Floof seemingly lost interest in the mud, having taken up a new infatuation with the dew that clung to the grass, rubbing his face on it, his paws were already dark with dirt. Techno rolled his eyes at Floof, shaking his head. He walked past him. 

Clicking his tongue absentmindedly as he approached the small, single stable barn, Carl promptly peered from his stall, neighing happily at his arrival. 

“Hey Carl, ready for a ride?” He cooed lightly, smiling as the horse’s ears swiveled forwards, eyeing him as he walked past to the tack hung on the wall. Unlatching the door and stepping into the stall. Techno made quick work of tacking up Carl, which the horse stood unmoving for. Patting his side, he led the horse outside. He whistled to Floof. 

The weather was chilly, not entirely enjoyable, but it was better than the sweltering heat, and at least it wasn’t raining anymore. They went slowly, taking the main road towards the nearest town — a half hour walk with Carl led them to the mouth of the town. The sun had crawled past the tree line, providing little warmth in the early morning chill. 

Dismounting on the outskirts, he dragged the reins over Carl’s head. Stood to the left of his companion, he tied him to a horse-stall, placed a handful of coins in the hand of a stablehand, and left him in the boy’s care. “Anything happens to that horse” he had warned, pushing aside the cape to reveal the long sword tied to his waist. The stablehand smiled, nervously reaching his hand to pet Carl’s shoulder. He was young, blonde hair and green eyes shone with eagerness. Techno nodded, and began further into town. 

The sun had risen farther into the sky, casting dark shadows. Technoblade walked slowly, his head on a swivel as he searched through signs for the better offers, places for quick coin. He flitted through stores, not staying long enough for any of them to strike conversation, just enough to get what he needed and to be rid of the interaction. His mouth turned downwards, as the busying only grew busier as more people woke and more people perused. He tightened the grip he hand on the end of the grain-sac flung over his shoulder. He kept his head low, hand tucked away, resting by the hilt of his sword. Floof, ever loyal, stayed by his side, his steps faltering not once. Only did they falter when suddenly, a tall lanky body collided backwards into Techno. He recoiled a step back, hand going to the concealed blade. The man, turned, eyes blue and young. He wasn’t a man at all, but a child. He released his grip on his sword. 

“S’cuse me,” He grumbled out, sidestepping. Floof followed.

“Oi, watch it pal,” The kid took him by surprise. He stopped, looking at him dumbfoundedly. 

“You walked into me?” He was baffled, the kid’s gall was shameless. He straightened slightly. 

“Tommy don’t be rude” A man, as if his saviour, came up behind the kid. He was taller than him, though not by much. Both were taller than Techno, also not by much. He wore dark heavy clothes and a dark woolen hat, which Techno thought must be annoying considering the summer heat. The man wasn’t really looking at them at all. He seemed distracted. Flighty, Techno thought.

“I wasn’t! It ain’t my fault the guy’s built like a cow!” 

“Tommy!” The man brought his hand and hit the kid-- Tommy -- upside the back of his head. It wasn’t very hard, simply an action of scolding. Technoblade shifted. 

“Pig, actually” He gave them this, then turning to the dog obediently at his feet, he went to move ahead. The tusks protruding from his lips shifted as he sighed.

“Oi Wilbur--”

“Tommy, I said leave off -- oh” The man had turned back, but the words died on his tongue. His eyes had become somehow brighter when they fell upon him. It made his skin crawl. They’d looked differently at him now. Not the indifferent stare of some stranger in the market, but a weird reverence. 

“Right, well. Good day,” He went again to sidestep the duo, but was met with resistance. The man stepped backwards, hands raised by his chest. Techno frowned, halted, his unamused glare making the man shift, but not enough to move from his way. Techno didn’t like this. 

“Mr. Blade, please, let me buy you a drink.” The man’s hands fell, going to rest in his pockets. 

“I don’t drink with strangers.” 

“I’m Wilbur Soot, this knucklehead” he waved his hand toward the kid, who was surprisingly quiet, seemingly enraptured in staring at him “ is Tommy, my partner.”

“How do?” Tommy piped in, a quick curt nod. 

“Now we aren’t strangers.”

“I’ve got to get back to my horse,” Techno bit out, shifting the grain bag on his shoulder. 

“You leave it with the stablehand past the gates? Tubbo will take care of him for you.” 

“Blonde kid?” Wilbur nodded. Techno sighed. 

  
  


The bar was quieter, the sun still high called for little patrons. Only the terribly dedicated and put-out collected here to drink during the daylight. The rest would flow in at night, when the respectable working men and the women and children were asleep. Techno rarely found himself here. He fit in well enough, brooding and silent and wanting to be left alone, but only at night did he ever show his face here. More often, he would find himself with Squid, and they would drink at his place, and compare potatoes or hooligans or, sometimes if he were unlucky, they would talk about the Riverbend crown. Techno would stumble home in the dark, fall asleep on the couch or the floor, and wake groggy. 

They sat in a back corner, at a small table, Wilbur and Tommy on one side, Techno on the other. 

“What can I get ya babes?” A woman asked as they sat. She eyed Techno slightly, not very discreetly, but said nothing else. Now, sitting here in the day, sun peeking through the dirty windows, he felt exposed. It was an entirely different building in the sunlight. 

“Two meads,” Wilbur spoke warmly, smiling at the woman, “and a water, please.” The woman smiled, seemingly charmed. 

“Two waters. And a bowl.” Techno added, looking down at his feet. 

She gave him a funny look, but nodded, then spun away towards the bar. Technoblade glanced at the dog, silently at his feet. Floof wasn’t allowed in here, but he refused to leave the dog outside, so he had glared at the woman, and gently pushed Floof forwards with his foot. When Floof sniffed at the woman’s leg, tail wagging, she relented, gave Techno a warning look, and sat them at their seats.

“You’re making Technoblade drink water, Wilbur?”

“The water is for you, Tommy.”

“But Wilbur, I can drink! I’m a big man!” 

“No, Tommy. You’re sixteen. Wait two years and you can do and drink whatever you please,” he said dismissively, ending the argument. The waitress returned with the drinks and a wooden bowl, which she placed by Techno, unsure. Silently, as Wilbur and Tommy muttered to each other, he poured one of the cups of water into the bowl. 

“Hey,” he said, not to Wilbur or Tommy, but to the little white dog at his feet. Floof looked up, eyes eager and warm. He smiled at the dog, flicking his wrist upwards. Floof stood, sniffing at his hand. He scooted over slightly, letting the dog step up onto the bench with him, placing the bowl at his side, Floof began to drink, crouched down to the bowl. He became aware when all he could hear was the quiet noises of the bar and Floof’s drinking, that Wilbur and Tommy had fallen silent, taking up watching him instead.

“What? He’s well behaved.” Techno shrugged. Wilbur smiled, nodding his head absently waving his hand towards them. A ‘by all means’ gesture. Tommy was watching the dog on the bench. 

“What’s his name?” 

“Floof.” He said, glancing at the dog, who looked at him. He’d stopped drinking, the bowl emptied, the fur around his jaw wet and flattened. He took the bowl from him and set it on the table. Floof sat up straight, his chest barely reaching past the table’s height. 

“That’s a stupid name for a dog.”

Floof snorted, shaking out his fur. Techno smiled warmly at the dog. “I think he likes it.” 

“So, Technoblade,” Wilbur began, straight to business. His face had slipped slightly, still holding an amount of reverence, but something in his eyes was replaced with desperation. Wilbur looked cautious, as though he thought Techno would stand, draw his sword and remove their heads at a slight of his reputation. Techno watched him, absently petting Floof, who also watched Wilbur. At least he wasn’t alone. 

“How’s uh…well, what do you do nowadays?” Wilbur was friendly enough. 

“I farm potatoes.” He said, scratching behind Floof’s ear. “I sell them here in town for profit.” 

“Is that all?” Tommy cut in before Wilbur could get a word out. His question made Techno look up, his eyes, ever so slightly squinting, head tilted, confused. “I mean,” Tommy continued, “weren’t you this great warrior? I used to hear rumours you were unstoppable. Unkillable.” 

“Everyone’s unkillable till’ they ain't.” He took a sip of his mead. “Besides, rumours aren’t always true, kid.” He muttered. He would not admit to Tommy that the rumours were true. Almost all of the rumours surrounding his name, held some sort of water. Countless times, where others fell in battle, he surpassed and succeeded them. Unkillable was true. 

“But you especially, right, Mr.Blade?” Wilbur this time. 

“Techno.” He corrected him. Wilbur smiled, as if he thought he’d somehow managed to break down his walls and step into the house of warmth and friendly conversation. He was wrong. 

“Techno, surely the rumours that surround you,” he paused, as if he was choosing what to say next with as much delicacy as he could manage, “some of them must be true.” 

“Sure they are. He’s Technoblade!” Tommy piped in, nudging Wilbur’s side with his elbow. Techno frowned. He pushed himself up, resting an elbow on the table, other hand holding his cup.

“Some of these rumours I would happily go without,” he stated dryly, watching Tommy’s eagerness fall ever so slightly. It was back as quickly as it had gone, as he waved his hand dismissively. 

“Being unkillable sounds like a pretty good rumour to be spread about you if you ask me.” He smiled, sipping his water as if he thought about the life he could live if he were ‘Tommy the Great. The Unkillable and Ruthless.’ Techno knew otherwise of the expense of having rumours like the ones he held. 

“Why’d you ask me here, Wilbur?” He cut to the chase, sitting backwards, placing the cup back on the table with a soft thud. The daylight flickered through the windows would almost be nice if he was not terribly uncomfortable. He felt as though he were a fish dragged out of water by rabbits, forced to sit and drink with them. He knew nothing of them, and assumed that they were not enough of a threat. Though, rabbits still held teeth and were painful to be kicked by, against a small fish. 

“I like that, straight to business. Right. You used to work with the Riverbend Crown, right? A worker, or guard? ” 

Techno frowned. “A little, as a guard. It didn’t suit me much so I retired early after an injury. Saved enough and paid off my farm. ” He lied, delicately. It was not entirely a lie. He did work with them, but he was much more than a simple guard. He was injured, though it was not his reasoning for retirement. 

“We know you were much more than that, Technoblade,” Wilbur smiled. Techno’s eyebrows fell from quizzical to someone suddenly accused. As though he’d had had a wound exposed that he had done well enough to hide. Wilbur had done research on him. 

“Your bumping into me was not an accident.” Techno concluded darkly. He let his hands fall into his lap, closer to his sword. Wilbur smiled softly.

“I thought it would be nicer to share some drinks before my proposition rather than come to your place of residence -- which, you said, was a farm? A potato farmer?” Wilbur’s faux friendliness eased away. Now it was a sense of business and personal gain. 

“Cut the shit” He said. Wilbur’s facade shifted. 

“How do you feel about your former place of work, Technoblade?” Wilbur obliged him.

“It’s fine.” 

“Is that how you truly feel?” Wilbur looked strange. He’d know the man for an hour, a little less, but he’d flicked something within himself not there previously. Tommy was watching him from the corner of his eyes, his attention flicking back and forth across the table between the two men. He could feel it too. 

“What’s it matter to you?” 

“I’m trying to start something here in town, Techno. The Crown of Riverbend, in my opinion, has been in power for too long. King George is lacking what our kingdom needs. It needs to be freed. Freed of this pathetic monopoly of its people, this strangling suffocation. I’m not the only one who thinks so. You see, for a while now, under the surface, beneath the skin of this town, this kingdom, the people are itching for change. A new form of government is beginning to sound more and more appealing to those of us who are not rich. Most of us. Almost all of us.” He waved his hand for emphasis. 

Many of us, hundreds, are growing more and more tired. Angry, at the crown, at King George and his dogs, complicite in letting the rest of us starve, suffer in these dirty, uncivilized conditions. We want an out, Technoblade. We’re starting our own kingdom, separate from the Riverbend rule. Construction has already begun west of here. We’re building a place for the people, by the people. I am spear-heading this operation, as its president.” 

“President?” Techno asked.

“Yes, president. I’m their elected head, someone that they have chosen to lead them. Not this oppressive, pathetic monarchy. We did not select King George. He was given the throne with a silver spoon in his mouth - my, it practically gags him, he sleeps so much no one ever sees him anymore. It’s his stupid dogish advisor Dream who runs everything.” 

We want your help, in fighting for the independence of L’Manberg.” 

“L’manberg?”

“It’s the land of men.” Tommy, who had been silent, piped in. “Full of great, manly men, innit? The greatest. And women too, ofcourse. They’re also very very great. My, it wouldn’t be any good without any ladies about, ey?” 

Techno frowned, looking to Wilbur. 

Wilbur continued, seemingly reinvigorated,“There won't be any L’manberg without bloodshed. As much as I would like to resolve this all peacefully and simply leave this place, King George would not let it be so. But I am willing to fight for what I believe, Technoblade. Can you say that you are really for King George? That he has not brought us into needless wars? That he has not ruined our economy and livelihood with his pathetic spendings? His horrible trade deals?” 

“Of course I don’t agree with everything the King does.”

“So will you help us leave him? Help us into freedom Technoblade. Surely you cannot think that they will leave you to your little farm forever? Eventually they will want you back, and they will not take no for an answer. You wouldn’t want anything to happen to your farm, would you? To your sweet Floof?” 

Techno glared. Suddenly, without warning, Wilbur reached forwards, grabbing Technoblade’s wrist, he brought a small dagger up over the table, bringing it down into his palm, impaling his hand into the wood of the table. He grabbed Wilbur’s hand harshly, hearing a satisfying crack as he gripped it, his knuckles white. Wilbur gasped, but his eyes shone. Tommy watched, eyes blown wide in terror. Techno stood, grabbing the blade’s handle with his other hand. Quickly, he pulled the blade free of his hand with little effort. Wilbur watched as the wound, a gaping gouge in the skin, lessened and lessened in severity. A few seconds gone, and it was almost unnoticeable. Blood still poured in small spurts and welts, but eventually, it too ceased. His heart thrummed. 

_ Technoblade, you’ve slipped up. Oh ho, this man. Oh this man! This man has undone you, Technoblade.  _ The voices, ones he’s ignored and denied for two years, surfaced in full. Repaying him in tenfold for the blood he has since denied them. _ You should make him pay for your hand.  Yes, let him pay. Let him pay!  E! E! Each of us demand it, Blade! Blade! Blade, strangle this man! Strangle the man!  Kill him! Blood for us, give it to us!  Blood! Blood for the Blood God! Blood for the Blood God!  Blood for the Blood God!  Blood for the Blood God!  Blood for the Blood God!  Blood for the Blood God! Do it! Kill him! Kill him and the child! The waitress! The town! The dog! No! No! No not the dog! Protect the dog! Protect the horse! Protect the horse and the dog and the Squid! And the man with the wings. Protect them, but not these.  Kill these. Blood for the Blood God. Give it to us! Blade! Blade! Blade!  “Shut up.” He bit out. He blinked, after having said it aloud. Wilbur’s eyes shone. _

__

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“So the rumours are true.” Wilbur spoke softly to himself, in awe.

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“Do not touch me again. You will not live to regret it” He threw the knife across the table, it clattered. Blood speckled the wood. It dripped from his hand, staining the wood.

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“I came to you with the best of intentions. Intentions of gaining freedom, and wrenching off the hand of the King that strangles us so. Please, do not tell me that you have gone soft and tired in your retirement? I have heard the rumours, Techno. They are quite ruinous. All that talk about your infamous sword-skills, the blood you spilt, the heads removed. All that time that you spent in --”

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“Do not speak of it.” He bit out. 

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“Hypixel. The rumours of the God that you worship. The abilities that he has gifted you” Wilbur finished, gesturing to the wound in Techno’s palm. “It would be a shame for your farm to become a casualty of war, Technoblade.”

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“If you leave him, the King, I want to be left alone. My farm will go untouched by you, and untouched by the King. You will ensure this. My dog and my horse and my neighbor will be left alone. If a scratch falls upon any one of them, and I will not halt where my sword falls. If it falls upon friend-faces so be it.” 

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Wilbur’s smile had slipped, replaced with reverence once again. 

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“I will help you, in exchange for complete and utter omittance after the war. You will never speak to me again. You will not come near me, you will not come near my farm or my friends or my animals. If you do I will not deny my god anything that he asks.” 

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“That can all be arranged, Techno. So, what do you say?” He reached out a hand across the table. “Partners?” Techno glared, reached over and shook his hand. The blood sizzled, and burned. Wilbur gave a quick shake, then recoiled in pain. 

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Techno smiled, and ushered Floof to the floor. “You are paying for the drinks. I will be back in the square in a week, prepared. I suggest you prepare your soldiers too. I will not fight your war with a bunch of teenagers.” 

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Then, with grainsac in hand and dog by his side, he swung open the door, stepped out into the sunlight and slammed it behind him. 

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note about Wilbur character: He's already kind of snapped - he's less prone to take the route of pacifist than before. (More so like Wilbur's character after the election.) He wants to free his people from the Kingdom and is ready to do whatever, and get whoever it takes to do so. 
> 
> Thanks so much for reading! Please leave a comment or something? I'm really happy with how this chapter turned out. I'll try and update it more frequently !! <3
> 
> Stay safe, wear ur mask, drink water, be good!  
> \-- Ghostiis.

**Author's Note:**

> \-- thank you for reading, if you've made it this far. 
> 
> I quite enjoy writing, and I hope to advance my story further and explore everyone's characters more! Updates depend on how heavy my school-work becomes in the next few weeks, but I'll try and update every other week (or hopefully, with less time between.)
> 
> Please leave any questions you have, I'd be happy to answer them! 
> 
> (Note: Technoblade, if his real name is ever mentioned, will be named 'Dan', instead of his actual name. Techno's stated on a stream he doesn't like his real name being used, so I won't.)
> 
> That being said, until next time, be safe.  
> \-- Ghostiis.


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